


Insecurities

by Lisafer



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anja Hawke, Established Romance, F/M, Fluff, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 05:39:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3638832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisafer/pseuds/Lisafer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s something in the way Fenris says her name that makes me twitch. He’s too possessive, too arrogant.  Too unwilling to recognize that she’s with me rather than with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insecurities

 

“Hawke.”

 

There’s something in the way Fenris says her name that makes me twitch. He’s too possessive, too arrogant. Too unwilling to recognize that she’s with me rather than with him. My fingers tighten on my staff, itching to shoot a wintry blast at the damned elf. Instead I make my way over to Isabela, who’s on the ground and clutching her side.

 

“Maker’s balls, that damned thug sliced me right up,” she hisses through her teeth, moving her hand only once I’ve started casting the healing spell. “A knife through the throat stopped him from doing worse, at least.”

 

She babbles when she’s in pain. It keeps me from clearly hearing the murmurs between Fenris and Hawke, though I can still see how closely they stand together. I see the way Anja puts one hand on his forearm – Fenris, who doesn’t let anyone touch him.

 

“We’ll talk later,” I hear Hawke say, her tone clipped. “Once people aren’t trying to do us in.”

 

“Whenever that may be,” Fenris replies with his usual scowl. He pivots sharply away from us, flicking the blood off of his blade.

 

“What’s this?” I ask Hawke, nodding in Fenris’s direction. She shakes her head slightly, then crouches down beside us.

 

“Are you all right, then?” she asks Isabela, her tone blithe, although her eyes reveal the extent of her concern. I know they were lovers, a while ago. It was just a one-time thing according to Anja, and it seems to have made them closer friends. I don’t even begin to understand how to remain friends with someone you’re no longer sleeping with. But as always, Hawke does things that make sense to few. And she does them well.

 

“I’ll manage,” Isabela replies, “thanks to Anders.”

 

“You know, you could just try not getting hit,” Hawke says lightly, a smirk on her face.

 

“Or I could just leave you lot and find a better team to run with,” Isabela counters, laughing. It’s the emptiest of empty threats. We’re all Hawke’s now, unless she tells us differently. How else would a makeshift group of apostates and rogues and scamps get along? Only Hawke can make a man like Sebastian work with someone like Isabela.

 

“I think you’re good,” I say, rising to my feet. “Just be careful, and don’t let Anja take you out for the next couple of days.”

 

Isabela nods. “I can find better ways to spend my time.”

 

“No whoring, either,” I add, for good measure.

 

“Why would I need to find a whore when Fenris could simply show me how much of his perfect body is covered in lyrium tattoos?”

 

“I’m not your type,” Fenris says coldly.

 

“Who’s type are you then?” she counters.

 

And I see it. Just a flick of the eyes, over to Anja.

 

“No one’s.”

 

Hawke and Isabela laugh lightly, making their way out of Lowtown. Nothing is planned for tonight – no favors for Aveline and her patrol, no warehouses to break into in the middle of the night – which means we can walk at a leisurely pace, pretending that we’re not all looking over our shoulders. Hawke stops at every other vendor, always looking for something, but never able to tell anyone what exactly that could be. One day it’s ironwood buttons for Merrill, the next she’s buying a new sword for Aveline. She’s generous with her coin – too generous, I think.

 

“Will you come to me tonight?” she murmurs, falling into step with me. I’ve been staying at the clinic lately; there’s a flu that’s been working its way through Darktown.

 

“Of course.”

 

“Good.” Her smile is sincere, I think. I wonder, often, if she reciprocates Fenris’s feelings. In the heat of battle, she’s always at his side, slicing and dicing her way through spiders and mercenaries and darkspawn in order to help him. She keeps an eye on everyone, though, darting across the battlefield when the enemy is too close to me. I wonder if it’s because she’s protective of her lover, or just of her mage.

 

Her fingers lace with mine briefly before letting go. It was agreed that we would not openly air our relationship. If I were to be taken as an apostate, the last thing I would want would be the Templars making her life miserable as punishment for harboring me. No one needs to know how often I sleep in her bed – assuming the mabari has not pushed me out.

 

But the others have put two and two together. Varric has given us speeches about being careful with our hearts, and described all the things he will do to me, should Hawke be wronged in any manner. Isabela has churlishly asked what it’s like to have Justice watching over my shoulder while – well, it does not bear repeating in the manner Isabela described.

 

And Fenris has glared and scowled.

 

I don’t know if it’s his normal glaring and scowling, or glaring and scowling with a _purpose._

 

"I have to go somewhere else before heading home," Anja says. "But I should be back before midnight. Will you meet me there?"

 

"Where are you going?" I hate asking it, but I can't not.

 

"I owe Fenris a conversation." She lowers her voice, leaning closer to me as we walk. "I think he needs help with something, but he's having trouble asking. I don't think he likes the idea of being in my debt."

 

Or maybe he doesn't want others around when he swoops in and steals someone else's girl.

 

***

 

"Has she not come back yet?" Merrill asks upon entering the large townhouse, looking around as though Anja might be hiding behind a pillar.

 

"If she were, would I tell you she's not?" I regret snapping at her as soon as the words are out. Merrill’s huge eyes get impossibly larger and she looks altogether wounded.

 

She shrinks back slightly, but then moves to the fireplace to pat the dog's head. "I-I just thought..." she begins.

 

"Thought what?"

 

"That she'd be home by now. It's after midnight."

 

Yes, it is. And she's still with Fenris. Maybe they're drinking the all wine he has in that mansion. Maybe they're confiding in one another. Perhaps he's stopped glowering, and he's telling her that he's been infatuated with her for years.

 

Haven't we all?

 

Even the Choir Boy has acknowledged that she's remarkable. If Sebastian can't resist Anja, how can Fenris?

 

"I'll be going then," Merrill says, punctuating it with a sigh. "When she returns, let her know I was looking for her. I have a favor to ask."

 

"I will," I answer apologetically.

 

She heads to the foyer, but then pauses to look back at me. "Don't fret, Anders," she says, her voice soothing. "Hakwe will not stray. She loves you more."

 

"Yes," I reply, and I can hear how dead my voice must sound to her. "That is a comfort."

 

Another quarter of an hour passes after Merrill's departure. My pacing before the fireplace makes Sandal fret, until his father finally sends him to bed.

 

Merrill's parting words cycle through my mind over and over again, like a mantra, but I'm unable to remember the way she said it. Which word had been stressed? She loves you _more_? She loves _you_ more? Did it even make a difference?

 

It was clear to everyone, then, if it was clear to naive little Merrill. Anja Hawke may be sleeping with me, she may be in love with me. But she loves Fenris, too.

 

I think of the way she touched him after the battle this evening, how she smiled up at him. I wonder if it's always been this way, and I was just too blinded to notice?

 

A familiar stirring within makes me pause, gripping the edge of Anja's writing desk. This is not a good time for Justice to rear his head, to exert his influence. I close my eyes and will him back. Being vengeful will not help me in the least right now.

 

Finally, at a quarter to one in the morning, Hawke returns.

 

"I thought you would be upstairs," she says, placing her knives on the weapon rack. "I'm sorry you had to wait up."

 

“What took so long?” My voice is colder than I wish it to be, and she glances at me sharply while removing her armor.

 

“Someone was following me,” she replies. “I ended up going all the way to Darktown before I could lose him.”

 

She could be lying, but I choose to trust her. “You shouldn’t go there alone at night.”

 

“Fenris was with me.” Her tone is light and casual. If she loves him, she doesn’t care if I know. If she doesn’t love him, she doesn’t care that I worry.

 

“He walked you home?”

 

“He always insists.”

 

Always?

 

“I reminded him that I’ve saved him as many times as he’s saved me in a skirmish,” she continues with a smirk, completely unaware of my discomfort. “But he still won’t have any of it. Ridiculous.”

 

“Yes, he is.” I speak because it’s my part in the conversation to do so. Not because I want to do anything but grip the desk and fight Justice for control. It starts the same every time. I feel angry and wronged, and my veins seem to fill with ice water.

 

“I hope you haven’t waited up just for me,” Hawke says, taking me by the hand. She leads me upstairs, and I let her. Sometimes her calm voice and steady hand are enough to drive Justice out. But tonight I feel so much turmoil that I cannot fathom he will want to drop away so easily.

 

“I have,” I say tersely.

 

She turns suddenly, a step above me. Her eyes are almost even with mine, and I can see the fatigue in them. “Never wait for me, Anders.”

 

“I waited for you for three years.”

 

“That was not idle waiting,” she replies with a wry smile. “You spent those three years debating yourself – going through all the reasons you shouldn’t pursue me, all the reasons you had to. I know how you tick, now. You can’t deny it.”

 

“I can’t,” I whisper, trying to keep hold of the conversation. I can feel him stirring, a bubble of righteous anger traveling toward my mouth. “I can’t sleep when you’re with Fenris.”

 

Anja peers at me, her eyes narrowing. “Is this Anders or Justice?”

 

“It doesn’t matter who speaks now,” I reply, and my throat feels as raw as my voice sounds. “You love him.”

 

“I chose you.”

 

My vision becomes less tunneled, and I feel as though I am thawing. “Why?” Justice seems to be stepping back and letting me keep control this time. “Is it because I came to you first?”

 

Hawke sighs and continues toward her bedroom, knowing I will follow her like a mabari. She knows we all will follow her like dogs.

 

“Anders, I chose you because it made sense to me. I chose you because I thought I could offer you something you needed, and because I knew you could do the same for me. Because you were my friend before anything else.” She sits on the edge of the bed, pulling her hair out of the ridiculous and adorable tails she wears. “I fell in love with you.”

 

“Merrill says you love him, too.”

 

She glances away, just for a moment, and I wonder if she’s going to deny it. Or avoid the statement, like she did before. “Yes. I… suppose I do. I love you all in your own ways. But I chose to make love with you.”

 

“And Isabela.”

 

She laughs, and reaches out to tug me down to the bed next to her. “One doesn’t make love to Isabela. That’s just fucking. A way to pass the time with a friend who has a mutual interest in bodily satisfaction.”

 

“So, if Fenris offered himself to you? Or Varric? Or Sebastian?”

 

“The odds of the former are just as low as the odds of the latter,” she answers with a smile. “Think about it, Anders. Would Fenris come to me like Isabela, wanting just a playful night together without strings attached? He lives to be attached to something.”

 

“He is attached to his anger,” I answer. “But he is also attached to you.”

 

“As are Varric and Aveline and everyone else who would never sleep with me.”

 

“And if I did not exist?” I ask, wondering if I should even broach this topic. “Who would you be with, were I not at your side?”

 

She says nothing for a long moment, thinking about it. “I suppose it’s possible that I would have fallen in love with someone else,” she says at last. She is being pragmatic, and it stings. “I don’t know that I would ever feel for them the way I feel about you, though.” She takes my hands in hers, squeezing gently.

 

“And if I’m taken by Templars and made tranquil, or I’m slain in a battle? What happens then?”

 

She laughs I know I’m in store for evasion. “If you have questions about the afterlife and your relationship with Andraste, I recommend you speak to Sebastian. But since you are here with me, and I’m choosing to be with you, we can face your concerns in a different way. A mutually life-affirming way.” Her eyes narrow seductively and her lips twist into the playful smile I fell in love with.

 

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, leaning my forehead against hers. “I don’t know why this has gotten to me.”

 

“It’s Justice, isn’t it?”

 

Yes. No. I can’t tell anymore. I know I am different now from what I once was, but I can’t tell what all has changed. Was I a jealous lover before? No, because I didn’t let myself become as attached to anyone as I am to Anja Hawke.

 

“I wish there were a way to separate you,” she murmurs, her voice low and soothing. “Not because I don’t love you the way you are, but because I can see the strain he puts on you.”

 

I nod mutely, leaning into her caress when she brings her hand to my cheek.

 

“Don’t think about Fenris. Or Isabela. Or anyone,” she says, punctuating each sentence with a kiss. “I have chosen you as much as you have chosen me.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Like most people stumbling into DA fic, this is completely inspired by my first play through of DA2. I romanced Anders and accidentally asked him to move in with me, when my heart was already a little attached to Fenris. So even though Anja Hawke loved Anders, a part of her heart wasn't his. ^_^;;


End file.
